


Plans

by Rynfinity



Series: Out of the Mouths of Babes [17]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abusive Parents, Abusive Relationships, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Substance Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2014-09-06
Packaged: 2018-02-15 15:14:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2233710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynfinity/pseuds/Rynfinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thor smiles.  It probably shouldn’t be quite so pleasing, the way she always goes out of her way now to remind him she knows he and Loki are <i>a thing</i> but,  well, it <i>is</i> pleasing.  That particular sort of attention to detail is probably why she’s in marketing.</p><p> </p><p>This is a direct sequel to Choices and will make the most sense read after its predecessors.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thor and Loki take positive steps to accomplish a few things, finally.

“Thank you, Mr. Odinson,” the pleasant enough woman behind the desk of the County Clerk’s Office says as Thor hands over the sheaf of paperwork. “Do you have any questions?”

“No, I’m all set,” he assures her. And he is. All told there were quite a few more forms than he’d expected, but he’d consulted his own attorney beforehand (he himself is not exactly an expert on the minutiae of the this sort of law, not in his newly-adopted home state) and is confident he’s filled everything out properly.

And, of course, he’s helped his brother – despite Loki’s eye-rolling and complaints about how _this really isn’t necessary_ and _if this was my idea they’d be labeling it paranoia and shipping me off to the People Zoo_ \- do the same.

If everything goes as planned, which there’s no real reason it shouldn’t, he and Loki will soon have domestic violence stalking protection orders – that’s what the law calls restraining orders here, at least the ones that don’t apply to spouses and household residents; it’s an inappropriately-amusing term, so much so that he and Loki actually managed to share not one but several laughs over it while filling out the endless paperwork – in place. Against Odin. As in, there will be no more unannounced visits and no more name-calling and no more _Loki in the emergency room wearing a pink gown and four-points_.

Well, not for _that_ , at least. As much as he might like things to be otherwise, Thor isn’t quite fool enough to think this alone is enough to guarantee his brother a safe and happy future.

Well, either of them, really.

Still, it can’t hurt. He is so done with this shit. Every stinking last bit of it.

~

“This was _your brother’s_ idea?” Sif does that _thing_ with her mouth, the quirky purse-lipped half-smile she always makes when she’s calling _bullshit_. “Seriously? Partnering with the courts is not normally high on his list of favorite approaches.” She takes a dainty, Loki-esque bite of her black bean burger, pausing to delicately lick a smear of avocado off her ring finger. “Too good to waste,” she adds, somehow managing not to sound like she’s talking through a mouthful of food. “Sorry.”

Thor can’t decide if he should shake his head _no_ or nod. In the end he swallows the rest of his own mouthful of (meaty, because he’s never quite been able to get onboard with Sif’s food choices; he’s fine with what she eats, he is, but he’s infinitely glad she doesn’t insist on imposing it on him) burger and tries talking instead. “Well, yes and no,” he explains, which is just about useless. “It was my idea, but it only came to me after Loki mentioned that he didn’t feel safe having pets where Odin could come barging in any time. Not that he still couldn’t, physically, but if he does it will hit him where he works.” He frowns. “I’m so not okay with that- that asshat depriving Loki of his kitten.”

“And?” Sif looks at him over the rim of her mug, steam from her tea floating up to blur her features.

He grins, grudgingly. “Okay, okay. You win. I’m not good with Odin depriving _me_ of the kitten either. So I asked around and found a good family law attorney,” he tells her as she takes another sip of her tea, the mug cupped in both hands – it’s bordering on cold today, the first real preview of the seasons to come, and Thor totally gets why a little extra warmth might be welcome – “and she thought this was our smartest option.”

“Mm,” Sif says, nodding. “Don’t get me wrong; I think it’s a great idea and I’m really glad you were able to get Loki onboard with it.”

Like anyone ever _gets Loki onboard with_ anything. As if. Thor smirks. “That’s probably an overly generous way to put it,” he tells her, “but fortunately the attorney was more convincing than I am.”

The two of them have been absent-mindedly sharing Greek fries dripping in feta and oregano and oil throughout their lunch. Sif nudges the plate closer to him. “Ugh, don’t let me eat any more of these. So, this kitten thing is a definite go, then,” she goes on, in a matter-of-fact manner that leaves him not sure if she’s asking or telling. 

Thor smiles, tentatively. He’s still scared by the whole pet ownership idea. Not that he doesn’t want to go through with it; it’s just- a little terrifying. “Yep,” he says, dutifully picking up a couple more messy fries. “It’s a go. When I pick Loki up tonight, we’re going to submit the adoption paperwork. It takes a couple of weeks for everything to go through, minimum,” he explains, fully aware that he’s babbling but glad enough to be talking about something that isn’t Odin (and isn’t self-harm) that he really doesn’t care, “but that’s fine. It gives us a chance to get our place ready and gives Loki enough time for-…” Ugh. He hadn’t really meant to go back there.

Sif’s giving him _the look_ , though, the one where she’s guaranteed to start asking difficult questions if he gives her half a chance, so Thor opts to plow gamely on. It’s not like she doesn’t know most of this already… she was _there_. She’s always there. “It- um, it gives Loki more time to be sure his medication regimen is working for him.” Every time someone tweaks something, the ED staff (who don’t really know his brother from a hole in the ground) especially, there’s a bit of stressful waiting to see if his brother’s head will explode or something. It sucks and he hates it, probably even more than Loki does. It seems that way, at least.

She just nods, though, like it’s all routine. Which it of course is for her, Thor guesses. For him, even, it should be. But stupid or not he can never shake the hope that, someday, his brother will be able to function happily without all these pills.

He does know that’s not actually possible, that what ails Loki is at least partly chemical in nature and simply cannot be fixed by talking and making nice and _keeping away the wolves, like Odin._ He does. Still, Thor can’t help but hope. Can’t help but wish.

~

As he pushes the door to the shelter open, it jingles cheerfully – not to mention _LOUDLY_ \- and Thor jumps. He hadn’t realized quite how tense he was, between wondering if Loki would be there as expected (not to mention what shape his brother might be in) and the whole business about _making Operation Kitten_ , as Loki has been calling it, _official_. “ _Fuck_ ,” he blurts out, and then “Sorry!”

Darcy grins from her perch on one corner of the desk. For once he’s actually glad to see her. Unlike some of the older staffers, it’s highly unlikely she’s offended by his bad language. “That thing gets me every time, too,” she offers, sounding sympathetic, “and I hear it a gazillion times a day. Or, at least, it seems like it. Anyway,” she goes on, laughing, “how is Loki’s Mr. Gorgeous?”

Thor smiles. It probably shouldn’t be quite so pleasing, the way she always goes out of her way now to remind him she knows he and Loki are _a thing_ , but… well, it _is_ pleasing. That particular sort of attention to detail is probably why she’s in marketing. “Fine,” he assures her. “At least, I was until I ran up against _that_ thing. What the-?” They can’t possibly be _trying_ to scare away all the customers.

She giggles. “One of your future cats has gotten a little too interested in the door. _That thing_ startles him and gives us an extra second to catch him.”

“Isn’t Mac in the enclosure, though?” The cats go right from their cages to the ring and back again; even he’s been her enough to know that.

“Well, yes, for the first few seconds,” Loki chimes in, laughing, as he walks over to join them. “Here,” he says, passing Marci to Thor for some snuggles. “And then he’s up and over the barricade like it doesn’t exist. He’s going to keep us really fucking busy, Thor. I hope you know what you’re in for.”

Color him stupid but that feels like a _good_ thing. “Of course he will, baby,” he tells his brother fondly. “And I probably don’t, but we’ll figure it out.”

“Ah-ah. On the clock,” Loki chides, somewhere between huffy and laughing, when Thor maneuvers Marci up onto his own shoulder so he and his brother can share a not-exactly-casual kiss.

“Oh, right,” Darcy says, tone snide enough to give Loki a run for his money. “Like _I’m_ going to tell anybody.” She slow-claps, laughing. “Please. By all means, continue.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prep continues for Operation Kitten (plus one)...

"Seriously? _Every_ cord? You're kidding, right?" It would be far from the first time Sif had jerked his chain over the years, just for the fun of seeing his reaction.

But no, she's _nodding_. "Yes, Thor," she says in that resigned-sounding tone that always makes him wonder what will happen when she actually loses patience with him. "Every cord, every cable, every wire." She brandishes a handful of cable wrap, the black, corrugated kind that crinkles loudly every time you move it. "If you can't unplug it and put it away for now, you need to wrap it."

Loki would laugh at that double entendre behind that sentence, until Thor blushed. But Loki is at group tonight, and Sif and Thor have a project to finish. A larger project than he’d anticipated, from the looks of things.

Thor sighs. They _are_ getting a kitten, right? Not a puppy? "But I thought _dogs_ chewed," he sputters. "This is just a tiny kitten." Marci, he's all but certain, would never voluntarily expend the energy required to find a cord and chew it.

Sif pops out from behind the heavy cabinet holding their so-called home entertainment system, wiping sweat and cobwebs off her face with the back of one forearm. "A lot of kittens don't chew, but some do. Their teeth are like saw blades. By the time you know which category – pun not intended - your little darling falls into, you're dealing with thousands of dollars' worth of destroyed electronics... and possibly a severely burned or even dead kitten. _Wrap_ , Thor."

Okay, she's convinced him. Or scared him into compliance, at least. He would never forgive himself if Mac got hurt or- or worse because he himself had been lazy. Negligent. And Loki's heart would be fucking broken. _Fine_. Thor marches resolutely across the room and tackles the lamps and speakers with renewed vigor.

The whole business, he quickly discovers, is not nearly as easy as Sif makes it look. He’s only a couple of cords in and the ridged plastic is already hurting the tips of his fingers like whoa. Thor grits his teeth and soldiers on, though; it has to get done. If Sif can do stick it out, he can.

~

They're just putting the finishing touches on the kitchen - the last room, thank god - when Thor hears Loki's key turn in the lock. The door squeaks open and closed. "Hi, baby," Loki calls from the entryway.

"Hi," both Sif and Thor yell back, in stereo. Loki pops into the kitchen, hair a mess and cheeks flushed pink from his walk home.

"You guys are awesome," he tells them, smiling, when his eyes land on the last few sections of leftover cable wrap. Loki smiles more and more often these days, and his pleased expressions seem for the most part genuine; Thor eats it up. "I was so not looking forward to this part," Loki adds, shuddering and looking at his own fingers. "That stuff is fucking brutal."

It is. Thor's fingertips are red and burning. It's worth it, though, to see his brother looking so pleased. "Well, you timed it perfectly... we're just snipping the last batch of ties." He looks at the clock on the microwave, frowning. It's a lot later than he expected. "Group run long tonight?"

Loki hefts a stuffed plastic bag and waves it at them. "No. Great minds think alike." He upends the bag onto the kitchen island; out pours a flood of cat toys. "You're making the environment safe. I'm enriching it."

Sif laughs. "What, guys," she asks when they turn in unison and give her the stink-eye. "It's funny. Seriously." She laughs again, not even having the decency to look ashamed. "It is."

~

While they're waiting for Thai delivery - and for Steve, who's agreed to join them for dinner on his way home from the gym - they take turns unwrapping the cute little toys (which Loki knows an astounding amount about; if he could only find his place, he would fucking _fly_ through the rest of college... which should be a good thought, so Thor isn't sure why it feels so sad) and tossing them about. "These are for Marci," Loki explains, holding out a handful of larger, softer toys. "We're really hoping that, with a place of her own and some room to run around, Fatty McSquishbutt will actually get moving."

Personally, Thor has his doubts. Marci is easily the laziest animal he has ever seen, even amidst the relative stress and chaos of the shelter. "And if she doesn't?"

Loki grins. "We'll chase her."

_Huh_. "That's okay?" Thor knows he must look horrified; he can just catch his reflection in the window by the sink. His mouth was actually hanging open there, for a moment. “Really?”

Sif and Loki exchange knowing smiles. "Of course it is," she says. "Once they get settled and feel safe here, I mean." Loki nods. "They'll expect it, actually. Plus, they'll chase you first," she adds, laughing again. "That's pretty hard to miss, trust me."

He does, of course. She's awesome with animals. And Loki. Still, for such small things they seem awfully complicated.

Cats, that is. Animals.

Not that Loki isn’t plenty complicated too.

~

Steve knocks on the door just after they’ve finished tipping the delivery guy and sending him on his way. “No thanks, I gave at the office,” Loki jokes, pretending to shut the door in Steve’s face. “Ooh, wait, what’s that?”

As the two of them come into the living room, Thor follows after them to see what Loki means. He and Steve exchange quick man-hugs, the kind that come with a solid clap on the back, while Loki digs into the bag Steve’s brought and rustles around in the packaging.

“These are awesome,” Loki says, holding up a sharp-looking set of ceramic super-hero pet dishes. “Too funny! Thanks, you two,” he offers – politely, _normally_ \- looking from Steve to Sif (in the kitchen doorway) and back again.

“No no,” Sif corrects, coming out of the kitchen still drying her freshly-washed hands on a dishtowel. “Those are all Steve. I didn’t even know he was going shopping.” She slings the towel over her shoulder. “My gift to you is my servitude.”

Loki sets the dishes gently on the media cabinet and wraps Steve in a real hug, arms flung everywhere. “That’s so nice of you,” he says, sounding excited and sincere.

To Steve’s credit he returns Loki’s hug without hesitation. Not for the first time (today, even) Thor reflects briefly on how lucky they are to have such good, supportive friends. “I couldn’t come empty-handed,” Steve protests. “This sort of counts as a house-warming, no?”

“More like your last chance to see the place before it’s hit by a furnado,” Loki replies, rolling his eyes. And just like that he isn’t laughing anymore. “Are we crazy? Siffy? Are we? Is this really even something we can do?”

Thor freezes. He’s not sure he can quite pinpoint where in the midst of that brief mini-outburst things changed. Still, his brother went in joking and came out pleading. It’s wrenching. Before his own brain has time to come unstuck, Sif is once again there to save the century: “You’ll be fine, baby. Loki, honest,” she soothes, reaching out to lay a gentle hand on Loki’s forearm, “you take care of almost 30 cats now. You’ll be fine with a couple. You will.” She searches Loki’s worried-looking face. “I know you will.”

Loki’s eyes narrow. “And if we’re not? If _I’m_ not?”

“Then I’ll cat-sit. It’ll be like respite. You and Thor can have an evening without the kids and reconnect,” she teases gently. “Seriously, I know you guys can do this. _You_ know you can do it.” She gives Loki’s arm a little squeeze and lets go. “You’ve thought this through very thoroughly. You’re much more prepared than most adopters. Don’t overthink and second-guess yourself, okay?”

Thor starts to feel abruptly dizzy; he’s been holding his breath without realizing it, lost in his own fear that Loki is panicked enough to call the whole thing off.

But then his brother- _smiles_ , outright smiles, and Thor’s world starts turning again. “You’re right,” Loki tells Sif. “I should stop.” He walks over to storage bench just inside the door and hefts the bags of takeout. “Here’s an idea: Let’s distract me with dinner.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thor's therapist does not quite let sleeping dogs lie.

"Have we fully covered the cat situation, for now," the therapist asks, about 20 minutes into their phone session.

"I think so," Thor tells him, after actually thinking about the whole thing for a few seconds. "I'm still nervous about it, but I guess that's to be expected."

The social worker hums softly. That’s close enough to agreement, Thor figures. "May I ask you a few questions about something else, then?"

"Um, sure," Thor says. Loki would tease him about his eloquence.

Except his brother isn’t here.

Before Thor really even has time to think about what the _something_ might be, largely thanks to being off in space thinking about Loki, the social worker starts in: "I know we've been talking about the cats for a few sessions now, as they've been your most pressing concern," he summarizes, and Thor doesn't disagree, "but I'd like to revisit a few things from slightly earlier on, if that's okay."

"Sure," Thor tells his therapist. "Whatever." He can already feel his mind starting to wander again

"How have you been doing with jealousy recently?"

 _Huh?_ Thor's brain struggles to come back from wherever it’s gotten itself off to. From autopilot, when you get right down to it. Put his brain in a corner and it shuts right down. "Of Loki and the cats?" Now that it’s out of his mouth. that makes no sense. "Oh, wait, you mean _Darcy?_ " He laughs. "We're fine. Now that I've gotten to know her a little better I-..."

 _Wait_. He knows his memory is sometimes far from ideal, especially when it comes to troubling things, but Thor has exactly no recollection of having _ever_ mentioned this in his sessions. None. "How do you know about that," he asks, a little more terse – a little more _accusatory_ \- than he probably meant to be. Than he safely can be, here. Except for how he can’t stop. Thor frowns, deeply. "Did Loki-?"

"No, nothing like that," the social worker assures him. "I would never talk to your brother without consulting you first. It was something Dr. Potts-."

" _Fuck_ ,” Thor blurts out, mostly to himself. His brain is moving _now_ , for sure. "Why would- why did- _fuck_ ," he exclaims again.

"What are you feeling," his therapist asks. Thor's favorite fucking question, that one is.

He grits his teeth. "Pissed. Betrayed. That was private." It's a stupid line of reasoning; he'd signed a form granting Ginny the right to speak with his therapist about his treatment and progress, especially where it relates to his relationship with his brother, on day one; he and Loki both had. There's no point in being angry about it.

Except he is. Almost dangerously so.

"What's going through your mind right now," the therapist asks calmly. He sounds sympathetic, maybe a bit concerned. He’s certainly not fighting back. Thor tried harder to rein his temper in.

"I don't like being ganged up on," he says, voice tight and clipped to as he struggles to keep from yelling. "I don't like it when my brother lines every-." He stops. "Never mind." Thor counts to ten in his head, then sucks in a deep breath. "You're right," he admits, even though the guy hasn't yet responded. "You do have my permission to speak with her. I just- I don't-." He doesn't _what already?_

"Go on," the social worker prods him.

"I said it in the original session." He thinks he did, at least. "I feel like I'm making all the changes, giving all the important ground." Thor snorts. "But he would tell you the same thing. If you were talking to him. Which of course you aren't."

"It's okay to feel angry," his therapist offers. Reminds him, really; this is not the first time around this particular barn. Or the tenth. "Feelings are neither good nor bad-."

"As long as I can control my reaction to them," Thor finishes. He swallows. "And I did, in that I didn't hurt anyone. But we were both cruel." He shrugs, even though the social worker can't see. "I overreacted," he admits, finally. "Or, rather, I reacted without knowing the whole situation."

"Fair enough. What are some things you might be able to do to help avoid that, next time?"

 _Oh, there won't be a next time,_ he doesn't say, much as he’d like to, because he knows with utter certainty there will. "I could just have walked around the corner and introduced myself, I suppose," he suggests instead, although he really can't picture himself doing it. "Or even stayed put. Not hidden."

"You hid?" The social worker isn't laughing at him, not really, but Thor feels three years old just the same. His face is hot.

“I did. I hid in a doorway and let them walk right by me.” This is so embarrassing. “I- I don’t know what I wanted to have happen.”

The therapist hums. “Do you trust Loki?”

Thor thinks a moment, and then another. “Sometimes? I guess that’s better than it used to be,” he goes on with a sad little laugh. “But it’s ridiculous to think he would cheat on me with a girl.” Except it really isn’t, because Loki did. Has. He shudders. “At least, I don’t think he would now. Not anymore.”

~

He thinks about their discussion on and off for the rest of the day. It doesn’t prevent him from working, or even leave him seriously rattled, but Thor can’t quite get the whole conversation out of his head.

In fact, he’s still thinking about it when he picks Loki up at the shelter early in the evening. “How’s our soon-to-be family,” he asks, nicely. It’s not that he doesn’t care; he does. He’s just distracted.

His brother peers at him from the other side of the car, face bone white on one side and pitch black on the other under the angled glare of the streetlight. “What’s wrong,” Loki asks. “I mean, they’re fine. Marci and Mac are fine. So, what’s wrong?”

Thor shuts his eyes and lets his head thunk back against the seat. “I spoke with my therapist earlier. He wanted to talk to me about- about Darcy. About how I reacted, and whether I was over it.”

Loki- Loki _gasps._ “I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anybody. I swear.” He sounds breathless. Just this side of _frantic_. “Thor, please, I-.”

“Sh-sh,” Thor tells his brother. He lets one hand settle gently onto Loki’s slim thigh. “I know. He talked to Ginny. I’m not upset.” That feels way, way too much like a lie. “I’m not upset with _you_ , I mean. I was upset talking to him about it. Which was stupid, and I’m over it now,” he explains, because he feels like he ought to. Has to. Like he _owes_ his brother. He sighs. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Loki’s fingers come to rest, cool and delicate, on top of his own.

Thor pulls in a shaky breath. He is _not_ going to cry. Not here, not now. “For a lot of things,” he says. “For scaring you just now, when I was only… confessing. For not being the partner you deserve.”

His brother laughs, quietly. “I’m not sure I want to meet the _partner I deserve._ ”

Thor laughs with him, then carefully pulls Loki close. “I don’t want to meet him either,” he says into his brother’s soft hair. “I love you.”

“Mm,” Loki says against his shoulder. “Of course you do.”

It’s not funny and they both know it. They laugh anyway, because they can.

Because, sometimes, they have to.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big feet, baby steps.

"I can't get it out of my head," he tells Sif. Half a week later and something- something he can't put his finger on is _gnawing_ at him. "I feel like I must be missing something. It's bugging the shit out of me."

She laughs. "I kind of figured that part out," she offers, gesturing at their coffee shop surroundings, "when you developed a sudden onset Happy Hour Emergency this afternoon."

"Yeah," Thor admits, trying to smile. It feels forced. Fake. Like his face may crack. "Sorry about that. I- I just want to _fix_ it. Whatever _it_ is. Before I see Loki," he adds, in case that part wasn’t clear enough.

"A lot of things can't be fixed with a snap of the fingers," she reminds him. It isn't what he wants to hear, obviously, but she's not wrong. He shrugs. She clasps her hands together and straightens. "Okay," she says brightly, "walk me through it and we'll see if that helps any."

Thor takes a couple of nice, deep, calming breaths. "My therapist asked me about a problem Loki and I had a few weeks ago. I'll spare you the details but I jumped to conclusions- yeah yeah, fancy that," he grumbles as she grins and nods. "Anyway, afterwards Loki and I got in an argument about whether or not he was cheating on me." That's not right. "Whether or not he was letting someone flirt," he corrects.

"Which is it," Sif asks when he pauses to breathe. Her hands are still folded but she's leaning in a little like he's extra-fascinating. Or something.

He swallows. "The latter,” he confirms. “They were just talking. Loki told her he was taken." He pauses a moment but Sif doesn't comment. "So, anyway, we had another fight about it at joint counseling, but I thought that was the end of it. But then a couple of days back I had a phone session" – he’s distracted himself and is going in circles but, holy crap, all they do these days is fucking go to therapy - "and like I said my guy brought it up. At first I blamed my brother."

He's starting to feel a little ill, which he hasn't in a while, and a sip of coffee makes it worse. "But," he admits, blotting his mouth on his paper napkin, "of course it wasn't his fault all. It was Dr. Potts - Ginny - just doing what she's there to do." It's taken days of mulling this over, because he doesn't mull nearly as well or as fast as Loki, but he's finally gotten there. Gotten here. "And I think I actually knew that at the time. It just took me forever to face it."

Sif sinks back against the padded booth. "So, you've faced it, which is good." She purses her lips a minute before continuing. "Is that really what's getting to you?"

"No," he says, laughing sadly. "That's still the back-story. When I stopped at the shelter later on Loki immediately knew something was up. You know," he gestures at his own head, "because I was still thinking it through. And when I told him, he panicked. Not for long, but- still."

Sif nods, looking like it's mostly just to herself. "Did you tell him you'd blamed him?"

"No," he exclaims. His stomach rolls. "I didn't- I wasn't going to anyway, but he actually never let me get that far."

"So did he tell you what was wrong?" She scrunches her nose up, then rubs the bridge of it lightly. "I have to stop doing that. I'm going to turn into a wrinkly old crone."

Thor smiles in spite of himself. If he tells Sif she looks fine, she'll swat him. If he tells her she might have the only other boyfriend in town even half as good-looking as his own, she'll swat him even harder. _Focus._ "Yes," he starts off, thinking back to his conversation with Loki. "He thought I was blaming him."

"Which you were," she offers, tone dry.

"Not by then!" _Oh._ Fuck. "Okay, right, got it. But why would he panic?"

She narrows her eyes. "Seriously? You can't think of any reason you might have given him to panic over false accusations?"

Of course he can. So clearly he almost has to run for the bathroom. As it is he swallows down an unpleasant mouthful of warm saliva. "But I don't do that anymore," he says a little faintly. "I don't."

Sif actually manages to look _pleased_ , which makes no sense at all. "What," he asks her tentatively.

"Good for you," she says, sounding as pleased as she looks. "I'm not sure I've ever heard you say that. Or agree to it. Not like this, anyway."

That pulls him up short. “I’m not sure what you-,” he starts in stiffly, but his brain is only a few short words behind his mouth this time.

And when the whole thing _does_ hit him – sure enough, he’s just admitted to- to _attacking_ his brother _over false accusations_ … and meant it, to boot – it’s- well, it’s all over. He doesn’t puke, not this time, but he sure fucking cries.

~

“What’s wrong,” Loki asks, head poked out from the hallway, not thirty seconds after Thor comes in the front door. It’s starting to be a theme. Okay, maybe not just _starting_.

“It’s nothing,” Thor says – he’s not crying anymore, hasn’t been since well before he and Sif left the coffee shop, but his eyes and nose feel stuffed and puffy – because that’s a theme too. It shouldn’t be; he stops himself. “No, that’s not true. I’m sorry.”

His brother closes the distance between them in two long steps. Loki puts a cool hand to the side of Thor’s face, gentle and soothing, but his brother’s eyes are huge as they search his own.

Thor takes a deep breath. He has to do this. Just has to. “Look,” he says, which is kind of stupid because he’s let his own eyes drop closed. “I feel really bad about the other night. It seemed like you thought I was going to- to punish you?” He doesn’t mean to uptalk but that’s how it comes out. “I wasn’t going to, I swear. But I think I get where you were coming from. And I’m sorry.” He leans forward a little and buries his face in Loki’s soft hair. A random leftover sob sneaks out, and then another.

His brother’s arms snake around him, still gentle, and then Loki is hugging him awkwardly… pulling him close, running a soothing hand up and down his back. “Hey,” Loki says. “Do _you_ want a backrub?”

“Maybe,” Thor mumbles against his brother’s sharp collarbone.

Loki snickers. “Well, my other go-to is a good fucking and you don’t seem up for that just now.”

Not just now, no. Maybe after the backrub. Thor makes himself laugh a little in return. “A backrub does sound like a nice start,” he agrees.

“Bed,” Loki says. He takes a step back, grabs onto Thor’s hand, and leads the way down the hall.

~

Thor takes his clothes off without argument and flops facedown on the bed, head turned to the side. It’s nice to let his brain idle, to let someone else make his choices. Everything is a little blurry in the dim light, thanks to all that earlier crying; he gives in and closes his eyes again.

When he hears Loki rooting in _the box_ , Thor involuntarily tenses. The bed shudders. His brother laughs softly.

“Shh,” Loki soothes. The mattress sinks a little under his weight. “I’m just getting some oil. For my _hands_ ,” he stresses as Thor feels himself twitch, “on your _back_. Honest, Thor; I’m not pulling a fast one,” he insists, rubbing his hands together audibly. “Relax.”

It sounds so easy. Thor tries; he really does. And it takes a while, but the smooth, sweetly minty (and what that is, he’s not sure – apparently he needs to sniff around, literally, in the toy box one of these days – but it smells good enough to eat) slide of his brother’s hands over the big muscles in his back and shoulders does eventually work something really fucking close to magic.

~

“Whuh?” Thor blinks. He’s drooling, from the feel of it, but moving a hand to wipe his own face seems like way too much effort.

“You were snoring,” Loki explains. “I asked you to stop. I even said _please_.” Thor can hear the smile in his voice. “Better?”

“Mm,” Thor hums, because it is. It’s been a long time since he felt this relaxed. This cared for. Still, even at the edge of sleep, he knows there was a point in there somewhere and he wants to be certain he’s made it. “I really _am_ sorry,” he says again. “I’m trying to be-.”

“Shh,” his brother cuts in. “Just relax for now. We’ll talk later.” His fingers dig in, working out the last of the kinks. “If you still want to.”

“I will,” Thor promises. “Later.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming!
> 
> This is awfully fluffy, because cats.

"That's it?" It sounds so- so anticlimactic. "We just walk in and put them in these" - Thor holds out the cat carriers, one per hand; the metal doors clink brightly against their latches - "and sign a form and _voila_ , we have cats?"

Loki laughs. "Pretty much. Then we bring them home."

~

Now that it's right up in his face, the whole thing seems especially big and terrifying. "They don't need- I don't know, shots or anything? A trip to the vet?"

"That part is all taken care of, at least for now," Loki explains. "They'll have to go eventually, Mac especially, but not right away." He shrugs. "Not this morning. Not this week, even."

~

It's Saturday, far earlier than either of them would prefer to be awake. Thor yawns, again, and Loki elbows him. "Quit that."

He would kiss his brother, if he wasn’t so stressed.

They're doing the pickup now, bright and early on a Saturday, so they'll have a couple of days to spend together with their new furry charges before work (or day treatment, if you’re Loki) calls. They’ve made plans for Thor to to come home for a few days at lunchtime, just to check up on how things are going, but having the weekend together first gives him a chance to take some quick lessons from his probably-much-better-at-this-than-he-is brother.

He does a quick mental inventory - food, water dishes, toys, litter boxes, litter... oh, and a few smallish cardboard boxes for hiding, Loki’d said, along with the fancy, expensive carpeted "cat tree" they apparently need in order to feel safe - and it's all here. All ready. He swallows, loudly enough that his brother looks over at him.

"It's going to be fine," Loki offers, looking excited (and tired) but not particularly frantic. He pries one of the carriers out of Thor's fingers. "Shall we?"

~

It really _is_ that easy. One of the managers - _Keisha_ , she calls herself when she and Thor make their introductions - collects their forms, and then his brother waves him over to the long wall of cages.

"Here's a piece of blanket for each carrier," Loki says, holding out a handful of mildly hairy fleece scraps. "These smell like home to them. For now," he adds, solemnly, and then smiles. Thor smiles back, because he’s supposed to, even though he's secretly shaking.

Loki unlocks Marci's cage and scoops her out. She looks like Thor feels. In the end she has to be wrangled into the carrier; Loki makes it look easy, tipping the plastic mini-cage on end and neatly slipping her butt-first into its open mouth, but Thor is awfully glad his brother is here to handle all of it.

"Sorry," Thor tells her as she huddles pitifully into the far back of the carrier. She makes a surprisingly small black ball, given how not-thin she is. "This must be scary," he tells her quietly. “I’m sorry.” He’s not sure what else to say.

Mac, by contrast, just marches straight in. When Loki tucks his little orange whip of a tail safely into the carrier and latches the door, the kitten whips around and expresses his displeasure by means of a big, dramatic hiss.

"Tricked you," Loki sing-songs, holding the carrier up to face height and peering in through the door. He gestures with his head for Thor to look, too.

Mac is sitting with his back to them, little shoulders rigid, lashing his tail. "I like you already," Thor tells him. "Let's get you guys - sorry, Marci; you _two_ -home."

~

Getting everyone buckled in seems unnecessarily complicated. It doesn’t help that Thor is so nervous he’s all thumbs.

~

On the way back to the apartment Loki twists in his seat to talk – voice soothing and too low to make out – to _their new family_. Thor fights to pay attention to his driving and to keep his eyes on the road, but it’s _hard_. It’s a minor miracle that they get home in one piece, really.

~

“So, now what,” he asks his brother as Loki unlocks the door. His heart is pounding; he can hear as well as feel it in his ears.

Loki turns and smiles over his shoulder. “Now you go sit quietly on the floor near the sofa. You’re big and scary,” he explains when Thor looks at him, puzzled. “And they don’t know you as well as they do me. Here, give me that,” he adds, reaching for Mac’s carrier. “Go. Sit.”

Thor does as he’s told; he plants himself cross-legged on the floor, as quietly as possible (which isn’t very; the floor is a long way down and there may be a little grunting and groaning involved), and looks across the room at his brother expectantly.

“Here you go, little cuties,” Loki says softly. He sets one carrier down and then the other, the two of them a few feet apart and maybe ten feet away. The door mechanism on Marci’s squeaks loudly; Thor jumps. “Shh,” his brother admonishes, but he’s smiling. He looks genuinely happy.

Loki pads quietly over and sits on the couch itself, just close enough to lay a hand on Thor’s shoulder. “Now we wait,” he says. “We wait and see.”

~

For probably five minutes nothing happens. Eventually Thor stifles a yawn , eyes drifting closed, and Loki squeezes his shoulder gently. “Look,” his brother whispers, pointing towards Mac’s carrier.

Sure enough, there’s a little orange face peeking out the open doorway. Mac sniffs the edge of his carrier, little pink nose working, and then marches out into the room. He stands there proud and kitten-stern by the edge of the rug, like some tiny golden prince, and it may just be the cutest thing Thor has ever seen.

Then, for no reason whatsoever – at least as far as Thor can discern – Mac executes a perfect leaping backflip and tears off across the carpet at a dead run.

Loki laughs – he sounds delighted, and _free_ \- and everything is worth it.

~

It takes quite a bit longer for Marci to work up the courage to poke her head out. When she does, though, Loki calls softly to her and she creeps right over. She’s so flat to the ground her furry black tummy drags; Thor feels abruptly sorry for her. “So much change,” he says – to her, to Loki - as quietly as he can. He doesn’t want to make it worse for- for anyone.

“You’re home now,” Loki tells Marci as Mac races back across the room, behind the couch this time, little feet making mini-thunder on the hardwood. “He’s a nut. Just ignore him.” She crouches even lower, which Thor would probably have argued wasn’t even possible, but when Loki leans forward and reaches towards her – slowly, cautiously – with his free hand, she sniffs his fingers and then rubs her head against him.

“Aww,” Thor says, partly because Marci is so fucking cute and partly because his brother is- is lovely like this. Calm and competent and _loved_. “You’re awesome,” he whispers.

“She is,” Loki says, apparently thinking Thor means Marci.

“Yep,” he agrees, “but I was talking about you.”

~

Sitting on the floor shouldn’t be so exhausting.

It is.

By the time Mac has worn himself out and collapsed in a bony orange heap over by the cat tree, Thor is feeling like he’d love to do the same. Marci creeps her way cautiously under the couch and then out alongside Loki’s foot; she startles when Thor touches her, but eventually cuddles up against his thigh.

He twists to look up at his brother, careful not to dislodge his new friend. “I’m so tired,” he whispers. “Am I supposed to be so tired?”

Loki bends down to kiss him full on the mouth, warm and wet and insistent. “You’re doing great. You’ll get used to it.” He stretches to scratch Marci’s head, pausing to give Thor another enthusiastic kiss on the way back up. “We all will.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cats are a bit like kids.

“But I want to,” Loki fusses. “And you should want to too. It’s been almost a week again.” He pouts, and it’s quite a lot closer to the angry kind than the cutesy kind. “I didn’t realize I was trading sex for pets.”

It _has_ been quite a while, when Thor thinks about it, which he hadn’t been doing. Obviously. “You weren’t. You haven’t. I mean, I don’t want you to.” He doesn’t want _himself_ to. “It’s just- I’m tired?” That sounds totally lame, and he knows it. It _is_ lame. “I- I can’t- it’s hard to concentrate on that sort of thing when I don’t know what they’re up to.”

“You go to work and the place is still standing when we get home,” Loki points out. “If we take ten minutes to fuck, what’s the worst that can happen?”

The _worst_ is probably something pretty bad, actually – he’s not putting much past their orange whirling dervish of a catlet - but Thor does get his brother’s point. He needs to give in, just a little, and meet Loki halfway. “Since when do we take ten minutes to fuck,” he teases, trying to get his brother to smile.

It doesn’t work. “Since we don’t DO it anymore,” Loki complains. “Stamina isn’t something that just magically happens, you know.” His brother shoots him a look, one he doesn’t really want to try to read. There’s a long, uncomfortable silence. “Fine,” Loki huffs, when Thor says nothing. “I’ll go take care of it myself. Again.”

He doesn’t want that. He really, honestly doesn’t. “No,” he says as his brother stomps off down the hall, but of course that’s the wrong way to go about it. All wrong. “Please,” he tries instead. His voice is shaking.

Loki stops and looks back over one shoulder. His face is- odd. “Don’t,” Thor tells him. “I- I want to, too.”

His brother cocks a sharp black eyebrow. For the first time in half an hour, easy - since their little tiff in the living room, when Loki’d tried to kiss Thor in front of the cats and Thor’d unthinkingly shoved him away – Loki’s expression softens. “Really?”

“Mm-hm,” Thor hums, getting carefully to his feet. Mac opens one eye and Thor freezes. “Uh oh.” He points; Mac stretches, long and twitchy, against his surrogate mom. Marci shifts a little and yawns, blinking blearily. “Shit.”

“Thor,” Loki says, “seriously? They’re cats. They don’t care if you come in the bedroom and engage in c-o-n-j-u-g-a-l relations with me.” He rolls his eyes. “And if they do care, well, they’ll get over it.”

He watches until Mac settles back down, nuzzling comfortably against Marci’s fluffy stomach, and then turns to follow Loki down the hall.

When they’re both safely hidden in the bedroom Thor latches the door behind them, just in case.

Loki laughs. “You don’t care if Sif hears, but you don’t want _the kids_ walking in on daddy and daddy?”

“I’m sorry,” Thor says. “I don’t know why it’s weird to me. It just is. So,” he continues, stiff and awkward. “What do you- um-.”

His brother squats by the side of the bed and reaches for the box; Thor tenses. “You want me to blow you,” Loki asks, conversationally. “You can blindfold me if you’d like,” he suggests, holding up a soft length of dark green silk. “I’ll even tie it.”

As Thor watches his brother hooks both thumbs into the hem of his own shirt and strips it off over his head in one clean movement. “Pants on or off,” he asks, matter-of-fact, like they’re talking about football. Or the weather.

The pants in question are dark, soft, thin cotton things, nearly see-through, kind of like extra-stretchy pyjamas. Thor likes them; likes the way they look, likes the way they feel under his hands. “On,” he says. He clears his throat. “For now. And yes to the blindfold,” he tacks on, swallowing hard. “On you, I mean.” He’s definitely not feeling up to being topped just now.

The smaller muscles along the sides of Loki’s abdomen shift under all that pale skin as he reaches up to tie the silk around his own head. It’s a good look on him, both the way his chest opens and the contrast of the dark fabric against his face. Thor steps closer, quietly, and reaches out to trail a finger down his brother’s front, collarbone to waistband. “You look nice.” Loki looks tasty, really.

His brother smiles, a little, crooked smirk. “Better than cats?”

Thor leans in to kiss Loki’s temple, just above the blindfold. “I don’t like the cats _that way_ , silly.” He kisses again, and again, lips trailing along his brother’s dark hairline. “It’s just- maybe it’s like having kids?”

Loki snorts. “Oh, I doubt that.” He twists a little to press their mouths together. “Nnn.”

Thor brings both hands up to touch his brother’s face; the prominent cheekbones, the silky fabric, the cool softness of his hair. What starts as a soft, almost _fraternal_ , kiss shifts quickly into something hungry and desperate. Loki’s hands come up as well, to catch Thor’s shoulders and pull the two of them close.

They stay pretty much like that, kissing more and more roughly, until they’re both painfully short on air. “So,” Loki pants against Thor’s jaw once they’ve reluctantly pulled apart, “blowjob?”

“Only if you want to,” Thor mouths against his brother’s cheek, trying to be- nice. Considerate. _Oh, fine._ He lets out a juddering sigh. “Yes, as long as you want to.”

Loki drops smoothly to kneeling, fingers dragging along Thor’s sides. He slips two fingertips just inside the waistband of Thor’s jeans and trails them around front, slowly; when he deftly works the buttons free, Thor can’t help but shiver.

At the first touch of his brother’s mouth – hot and slippery, with just the right amount of pressure – Thor bucks forward with a loud groan. Loki laughs around his cock, then grasps his buttocks and pulls him sharply forward.

Thor tries to control himself, he does, but it’s to little avail. It takes _maybe_ two minutes, tops, before he’s thrusting deep into his brother’s tight throat. The long muscles in his thighs shift and twitch; even his hands take on a mind of their own and fist in Loki’s hair.

His brother is right; it’s been a while. Thor barely manages to establish a rhythm, one that stokes his own crackling fire but still lets his brother suck in a breath between strokes now and then, before he’s coming hard down Loki’s throat. “Oh fuck,” he breathes, when it feels like he’s just this side of dying. “Oh god.”

“ _Oh god_ ,” Loki parrots, voice scratchy and raw. He shifts a little, resting his face against Thor’s sweaty thigh. “I _like_ the sound of that.”


End file.
